Leah - Glenn Conjurske

Leah

by Glenn Conjurske

The character of Leah has been much glorified by certain teachers, whether as an obedient daughter, a holy type of the church, or even as an innocent sufferer, a martyr to Jacob’s “inordinate love” for Rachel. We think all this to be a great mistake. We suppose that the brief description which we have in the Bible of the doings of this woman might be most aptly entitled, “The Ways and Fruits of Unbelief.”

But the understanding of this scripture has been much obscured by a wretched species of hyperspirituality, which fails to understand or refuses to acknowledge the workings of nature in the whole affair, and the commentators in general darken counsel by words without knowledge. Matthew Henry writes, “The learned bishop Patrick very well suggests here that the true reason of this contest between Jacob’s wives for his company, and their giving him their maids to be his wives, was the earnest desire they had to fulfil the promise made to Abraham (and now lately renewed to Jacob), that his seed should be as the stars of heaven for multitude, and that in one seed of his, the Messiah, all the nations of the earth should be blessed. And he thinks it would have been below the dignity of this sacred history to take such particular notice of these things if there had not been some such great consideration in them.” John Gill repeats the same. I can only say, Let him believe it who can. I have no doubt that such hyperspiritual notions stand directly in the way of any proper understanding of the passage.

It is perfectly plain on the face of the text that Leah strove for her husband’s love, and thought to gain it by bearing him children. Rachel no doubt wanted children because she was a woman, and so possessed of the same desire which resides in the heart of every other woman; but this desire was no doubt heightened by the fact that she supposed her superior position in the affections of her husband to be threatened by Leah’s fruitfulness. A man might have told her that she had nothing to fear from that quarter, as Leah had nothing to gain by her childbearing, for a man’s love can neither be gained nor lost by such a means. Yet these women evidently did not understand this, for women are apparently as prone to impute their own desires and feelings to men, as men are to impute theirs to women. These women, therefore, in wrestling with each other for their husband’s love, do so by a means which could only prove entirely ineffectual. Leah bore one son, and said, “Now therefore my husband will love me,” yet no such event followed. When she bore the second she must still say, “Because the Lord hath heard that I was hated, he hath therefore given me this son also.” And when the third son was born, she says, “Now this time will my husband be joined unto me, because I have borne him three sons.” Thus she kept up a vain hope, and though Leah gained nothing of Jacob’s love by the bearing of these sons, yet Rachel evidently felt her own position threatened by it, and she must therefore strive in return.

We suppose that if Leah had been the sole wife of Jacob, and unloved as she was, she would soon have resigned the case as hopeless, and become indifferent to his attentions, as a myriad of other women have done, but the presence of a rival made this impossible. This kept her hope alive, while it excited all her feminine jealousies, and compelled her to competition. The one thing which was uppermost in her mind year after year after year was the fact that she was unloved and unwanted by her husband. This plainly appears in her naming of her sons, as it does also years afterwards in her saucy reply to Rachel’s request for her son’s mandrakes: “Is it a small matter that thou hast taken my husband? and wouldest thou take my son’s mandrakes also?” We hardly need speak of the patent injustice of the taunt. Leah may be pardoned for that. She was the thief herself, but it was too late to help it now, and the fact is, she had a need, deep-seated in her feminine nature, and no hope of its fulfilment, unless she could wring a little something from the grasp of her sister. “All’s fair in love and war,” the proverb says, and this was both. “All’s fair” because “Necessity knows no law,” as another proverb tells us. Leah had no right to complain of her sister stealing her husband, but we cannot deal hardly with her for it, for her need was the same as Rachel’s, and she was driven to this by desperation. What exquisite pictures we have here of feminine nature and of feminine need, and yet to the hyperspiritual all this is beneath the dignity of the holy narrative, unless we can find in it some hidden spiritual sense! We shall never understand Scripture at this rate.

Speaking in the same hyperspiritual vein, of Leah’s hiring of Jacob for a night with her son’s mandrakes, Matthew Poole writes, “God hearkened unto Leah, notwithstanding her many infirmities,” which is true enough, but he adds, “Hence it appears that she was moved herein not by any inordinate lust, but by a desire of children.” Nothing of the sort “appears” at all to me. I believe no such thing. The doctrine of marital cohabitation “for children only” descends to us from some of the earliest of the “church fathers,” but it is as directly against the Bible as it is against human nature. It is no “inordinate lust” for a woman to desire her husband’s love and attention, for its own sake, for God has planted that desire in her soul by creation, and neither could she be a help meet for man without it. When God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone,” this was not because he wanted children—-nor a cook, nor a laundry maid either—-but a lover, and it was a lover which God created for him. And being what she was by God’s creation, it was a lover which she wanted herself, and not merely children. This was no “inordinate lust,” but a perfectly legitimate and scarcely avoidable desire. The hyperspirituality which treats human nature after Poole’s fashion simply disqualifies itself from the understanding of Scripture, and from the gleaning of many of its moral lessons which are undoubtedly intended by the Spirit of God.

Now as the very foundation of those lessons, we must understand at the outset that what Leah did, in supplanting her sister for the possession of Jacob, was wrong. It was the sinful fruit of unbelief. And though Laban’s hand was undoubtedly with her in the wrong which she did, yet it was her own act. She was either the author of it, or a willing accomplice—-as Jacob was in carrying out his mother’s scheme to supplant his brother. Leah allowed herself to be given to Jacob in her sister’s stead. She concealed her identity from him until the morning light, that is, until she supposed it too late for him to reject her. This I regard as conclusive proof that she did not act against her will in the matter. She might easily enough have made known her identity. Indeed, it must have been with great difficulty that she concealed it. If she had had any desire or determination at all to reveal herself, she might have done so with the greatest of ease, and as it were accidentally, so as to excite no suspicions of her intent. If she was acting under orders from her father, she might have feared some punishment for revealing herself, but we hardly think he would have killed her or cast her out. And supposing he would have, still it were better to suffer than to sin. What Leah did was certainly sinful, and she certainly knew that it was, and though sin might be partially excused by the fear of consequences, it can never be wholly so. “A poor excuse,” an old proverb says, “is better than none,” and we do not believe that God will deal with those who sin under duress or fear, as with those who sin of their own free choice. Nevertheless, no sin is wholly excusable.

But supposing her father required this of her, was she not bound to obey him? Certainly not. No one is ever bound to sin. “We ought to obey God rather than men.” (Acts 5:29). We are all under authority of some sort or other, but no authority ever has the right to require us to do wrong, and if they do so, we are bound to disobey, though it be at the cost of limb or life.

And surely none could be so destitute of moral sense as to suppose that what Laban required of her (if he required it) was right. What Laban did was wrong on two counts. First, it was against nature. Next, it was against righteousness.

As to the first of these, an old proverb very truly says, “Nature is the true law.” Now as nature had it, Jacob was in love with Rachel, not Leah. No parental manipulating could alter that. Jacob himself could not have transferred his affections from Rachel to Leah. Much less could Laban or Leah. To put Leah in Rachel’s place was a sin against nature, and as such it was foolish. And it was as great a wrong to Leah as it was to Jacob or to Rachel. It gave to her a husband who was in love with her sister, and it is an absolute impossibility for any woman on earth to be happy in such a marriage. This step, then, being directly against nature, could only seal the unhappiness of Leah.

But in the next place, it was a plain sin against righteousness. Laban had contracted with Jacob for Rachel, not Leah. Seven long years Jacob had labored for Rachel, and to now put Leah in her place was the greatest wrong which could have been done to him, short of physical violence.

We know that Laban excused himself for it, saying, “It must not be so done in our country, to give the younger before the firstborn,” but this is the lamest excuse that ever was. In the first place, we do not believe that it was true. Jacob had labored seven long years for Rachel, and surely this was known in all the region. “Love and a cough cannot be hid,” and all men doubtless knew that it was Rachel whom Jacob loved, and for whom he labored. If there was any such custom as Laban pretends, surely Jacob would have known of it after seven years. Surely he would have discovered it. Surely some man would have informed him of it. Laban would not have dared to call together all the men of the place to celebrate the marriage of Rachel, directly in the teeth of such a custom. Neither would he have dared to call them all together to celebrate the marriage of Leah, when they all knew very well it was Rachel to whom Jacob was engaged. We do not believe there was any such custom.

But supposing there had been, it was now seven years too late for Laban to speak of it. Customs do not arise in the space of seven years. If there had been any such custom, in the nature of the case it must have been of long standing, and Laban was certainly aware of it when he contracted with Jacob for Rachel. Why did he not mention it then?

We do not believe that custom had anything to do with Laban’s act. It is more likely that Leah was his favorite, and that he was determined to let her have her way, and so agreed with her to supplant her sister, as Jacob, being his mother’s favorite, had formerly agreed with her to supplant his brother. If so, the whole affair was a most fitting scourge for Jacob for his own sin. But be that as it may, one thing is apparent, that Laban saw in this scheme a golden opportunity to secure the services of Jacob for another seven years. This was entirely in keeping with his character, and this may have been his whole motivation. But however the matter is to be explained, it is certain that Laban was wrong, that he sinned directly in the teeth of his own solemn covenant with Jacob.

And Leah was just as wrong. She certainly knew that Jacob had labored for Rachel. The proof that she knew it, if any proof were needed, lies in the fact that she concealed her identity till the morning light. There had been absolutely no occasion for this, except that she knew very well she was usurping the place of another. This was as sinful on her part as it was of Laban to require it of her. She certainly knew that while she lay in the arms of Jacob, her sister was ————somewhere, weeping rivers of tears. She committed a disgraceful and dastardly offence against both Jacob and Rachel, and she certainly knew that she did. This was wrong, no matter who required it of her.

But we are not so sure that anyone required it of her. This may have been her own plot entirely, though Laban lent her his hand in the performance of it. We really do not know who was the author of the scheme, and who the accomplice. We do know that both were guilty.

But why would Leah have either devised this scheme, or lent herself to its working? Doubtless, she wanted a husband. To see her younger sister provided for, while she remained destitute, no doubt multiplied her desires—-no doubt filled her with a sense of her inferiority, and a driving passion to prove herself. I have known just such cases as this. One of a set of twin girls was married, while the other remained without a prospect. It became the passion of the single girl to prove herself, and she took the first man who paid any attention to her, though it was generally believed that they were a mismatch.

Now if such is the case when one twin marries, how much more when it is a sister who is both younger and more beautiful? When Jacob came to their home, his heart was immediately taken by Rachel. Seven years he labored for her, and in all that seven years, no man had appeared to desire the hand of Leah. The need which she felt to prove herself—-to prove that she could also be loved and wanted—-no doubt grew stronger and stronger, till she resolved on this desperate plan—-or willingly acquiesced in it.

We know it is generally assumed that Laban was behind all this, but the Scripture says nothing of that. We think it at any rate just as likely that Leah was the author of the scheme. She likely went to Laban pleading that she ought to have the husband, as she was the elder—-and besides, it would be no great loss for Rachel to be deprived of him, as she was beautiful, and could easily enough get another.

These were no doubt the considerations which moved Leah, either to meditate this plan, or to agree to carry it out. She was wrong in either case. Matthew Henry tells us that some say she was nothing better than an adulteress. We think so too, but whether she was or no, it is certain that she was a deceiver, a supplanter, and a thief, and as such she was the fittest thing on earth to scourge Jacob for his own deceiving. He had once concealed his own identity, to deceive his father and supplant his brother, and now, many years later, all this is returned to his own bosom. We have remarked above that it could only have been with the greatest of difficulty that Leah concealed herself, and it is really almost astonishing that she could accomplish it at all. Darkness does not conceal everything. Was there nothing in her ways, her form, her size, her hair, to give her away? Surely her voice would have done it, and her very silence must have wrought pain in Jacob, if not suspicion. And if he somehow extracted a sigh or a sound from her, if he any way managed to draw but a whispered word from her, how must his heart have started with consternation at the unthinkable thought, “The voice is Leah’s”!—-while the candle of the Lord within him cast its unflickering beams upon the memory of the puzzled utterance of his old blind father, “The voice is Jacob’s.” In complicity with his mother he had practiced his deceptions on his old father, to supplant his own brother, concealed by the dimness of his father’s eyes, and now for his recompense, in complicity with her father, Leah practices her deceptions upon himself, to supplant her own sister, concealed by the dimness of the night. “It is easy to observe here,” says Matthew Henry, “how Jacob was paid in his own coin. He had cheated his own father when he pretended to be Esau, and now his father-in-law cheated him. Herein, how unrighteous soever Laban was”—-and I add, how unrighteous soever Leah was—-”the Lord was righteous.” And Bishop Hall in his beautiful Contemplations remarks on the same event, “God comes oftentimes home to us in our own kind; and even by the sin of others pays us our own, when we look not for it.” Though she intended nothing less, Leah’s sin was a righteous scourge to Jacob, as it was indeed a righteous scourge to herself for many years to come.

But to proceed. That Leah’s course was sinful is too plain to be denied, and if we look to the root of this sin we shall find, as we always find, that it was nothing other than unbelief, which can never wait upon God for the blessing, but must take it for itself, and always with a hand defiled by sin. Faith has no compulsion, no occasion to do wrong. Faith can wait upon God, and look to him for the desired blessing. It can wait patiently, though long denied. Unbelief is unable to do this, but always contrives and schemes and makes haste to secure the blessing for itself, and invariably does wrong in the process. Faith can safely take the low place. It can take the back seat. It can rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him, though it is denied and deprived and disappointed, and though all its rivals prosper. By faith Leah could have remained in the back seat, while her younger sister secured the husband which she so much craved herself. By faith she could have fretted not to see her sister—-and her younger sister—-exalted, while she remained destitute. If the whole scheme was her father’s, yet faith would have refused anything to do with it, as faith in Jacob would have refused his mother’s scheme to obtain the blessing. Faith in Leah would have found food in the very prosperity of her rival, for the God who brought a husband from a far country for her sister could provide for her own need also.

But Leah had nothing of this faith. She must therefore scheme and supplant and sin. These are the ways of unbelief. But unbelief has consequences also, and these are always bitter. Leah no doubt promised herself something passing sweet when she schemed to steal her sister’s husband, but all she secured was that in all her life she should never taste the pure delights of marriage. All her scheming was only to get out of the frying pan into the fire. What enjoyment did she have, what happiness did she find, in her stolen marriage? All her pains were taken to secure a man who was in love with her sister, and it is outside the realm of possibility for a woman to be happy in such a marriage.

What enjoyment did she find as the fruit of her unbelief and sin? Surely none on her wedding night, when every moment she was smitten by an outraged conscience, tormented every moment with fears that she would be discovered and shamed and rejected after all, while she must kiss and embrace her stolen husband with never a sound or a sigh, scarcely daring to breathe, and certainly not daring to give him a hint as to the reason of her stubborn and unnatural shyness—-knowing, too, that all his tokens of love were intended for her sister. Surely there was no happiness here.

Neither could she have found any in the one week of her life in which she was permitted to have Jacob to herself, when she knew that at the close of that week her fair and loved rival was coming to dispute her possession of her husband. And surely she found nothing of the bliss of marriage then, when her whole life must be blighted with the constant consciousness that Rachel was loved, and “Leah was hated.” What marital bliss was this, when she must buy a little of her husband’s attention from her sister, with her son’s mandrakes?

Rachel died young, but even then Leah was not left in possession of the field, for her wrestlings with her sister had thrust two concubines into her husband’s bosom, and she must now share him with these, though her first rival was out of the way.

‘Tis a great pity, and indeed a great wonder, that Leah did not foresee all this misery, and refuse that fatal act which produced it, but the fact is, unbelief has never yet been reasonable. It is moved by passion, not reason. The present need is all its thought, and future consequences are left to shift for themselves. Future happiness is bartered for present gratification. A birthright is bartered for a mess of pottage. The pleasures for evermore at God’s right hand are bartered for the pleasures of sin for a season. This is the way of unbelief, and it was certainly the way of Leah on the night in which she stole her sister’s husband.

The lessons of the life of Leah are plain. The record cries aloud that sin does not pay. The fruits of unbelief are bitter. It is better to trust in the Lord and do good, than to scheme for ourselves and do evil. The scheming and grasping of unbelief will never secure the good which God has to give. How much better off would Leah have been to remain destitute, and patiently waiting upon the Lord for a husband who loved her, than to make haste to be married to one who did not. The former she might have had by faith. The latter was all that her unbelieving schemes could secure. The graspings of unbelief may obtain many things, but they will all be encumbered with sorrows.

Leah has been much condemned by some for giving her maid to her husband, and the more because she said, “God hath given me my hire, because I have given my maiden to my husband.” But this statement indicates that this was neither a light matter nor a deliberate wrong on her part. It was surely something she felt in the depth of her soul, and something which was foremost therefore in her mind. It was another tactic in her war of desperation, and no doubt resorted to after a long and severe struggle. No woman glibly gives her maid to her husband. She was as it were fighting fire with fire. Her case was desperate, and she must therefore sacrifice the most tender and sacred feelings of her feminine nature, in order to endeavor to buy a little satisfaction for those feelings. She no doubt wept a river of tears in the process, and who could be so hard of heart as not to weep with her? She obviously viewed her giving of her maid to her husband as a noble self-sacrifice, and expected the blessing of God for it. We are not prepared to say how much there may have been of faith in this, and how much of unbelief. One thing is certain, that her act is a display of the depth of her need, and the desperation of her plight, and that plight was the bitter and long-lingering fruit of her sin.

Yet in the midst of all this scourging, and all this suffering of the bitter consequences of her sin and unbelief, still God is merciful to Leah. “And when the Lord saw that Leah was hated, he opened her womb.” “Surely the Lord hath looked upon my affliction,” she said, and no doubt with perfect truth. And once more, “The Lord hearkened unto Leah, and she conceived.” The Lord did not upbraid her for her strivings with her sister. He did not admonish her (as some hyperspiritual preachers would do) that her striving for her husband’s love was too petty a thing to occupy the energies of an immortal spirit, and that she ought to set her affections on things above, and leave carnal things to the carnal. No such thing. However petty her strife with her sister might appear to the cold and unfeeling and hyperspiritual, it was not petty to her, and neither was it petty to the God who loved her. It was the natural outgrowth of a deprived feminine nature, and the God who created that nature was touched with the achings and the burnings of her disappointed heart. The Lord did not require her to feel and act as an angel, when she was but a woman. What woman could feel any otherwise than Leah did, if placed in the same circumstances? Though she had put herself in that trying place, by her own unbelief and her own wrong, and must therefore drink a long draft of suffering, yet God is merciful, and if he cannot give her the husband’s love which she craves, he will at any rate give her some compensation for the lack of it, in the children which she sought. “God hearkened unto Leah,” in the midst of all her weakness, for he is not relentless, and he will not only give her to drink freely of all of his goodness to all eternity, but allow her to taste of it even in this life, though here she must be scourged for her unbelief also.

Glenn Conjurske